The True Meaning of Sacrifice
by Lilithen
Summary: 2005 Moviebased, gapfiller. Tumnus rushed right into battle armed with only fists and courage. Suppose he didn't quite escape unscathed... A TumnusLucy friendship fic, hc, angst.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The True Meaning of Sacrifice

Rating: T for mildly graphic battle descriptions

Warnings: Very angsty, possibly somewhat OOC, slightly sappy. First fic in this 'verse. Movie-based.

Notes: This story is completely written; I will do my best to get it edited and posted without any major gaps.

Disclaimer: Tumnus, Lucy, and the other characters, as well as the world of Narnia, are solely the property of C.S. Lewis. No infringement or disrespect is intended.

Though the battle was long since over, the four Pevensie children were busier than ever. Lucy in particular found her cordial in high demand, as many had suffered at the hands of Jadis' troops. Those with minor injuries were helped back to camp and seen to by the healers; Lucy saved her cordial for those too wounded to make it back on their own. Because so many had awoken from grievous injuries to find her smiling over them, she was quickly gaining the reputation of something of an angel of mercy. Though her time was valuable, and the need for her cordial great, she always had a moment to spare for those she healed, exchanging a kind word or a smile, and sometimes a hug. Although unaware of it, she was steadily winning the hearts of the Narnians, and as the day drew on towards dusk the talk of her deeds and her kindness had spread to all corners of the camp.

Even if she had known this, however, Lucy would not have given it much though, because for her, the jubilation of the victory was tempered with loss. Many of the bodies over which she knelt would not respond to her aid, their skin cool and their lips untouched with breath. Though she was still young, the war-torn country from which she came had taught her early on that battles always demanded sacrifice, and the victorious paid their own prices as surely as the defeated. Aslan had gently advised her, as she knelt to pour a drop of cordial into the lifeless mouth of a young faun, not to waste it, for it was precious, and there were some who would be beyond her help. She had corked the bottle with trembling fingers, and brushed away the tears that fell upon her cheeks, then bent to kiss the still faun's brow before folding his hands across his chest and nodding to the great lion. He bowed back, wise amber eyes filled with sadness and pity; none so young should have to deal with such blows, he knew, but Narnia's need for the Pevensie children could not have waited for them to grow.

Lucy herself tried to take comfort in the many faces and creatures in which she was able to reawaken life, but the losses of the others was difficult for her to accept. Still, she knew the many who still lay wounded could not afford to wait while she grieved for those already lost; there were many whose lives still hung in the balance, and it would take every ounce of strength she had within her to see to them all.

Finally, as evening drew on and the sun's rays turned from golden to deep blood red, she began to trudge wearily back toward camp. She had searched the fields, with the help of those she had revived, and there were no more to be found who could still benefit from her fireflower juice. Clutching the now half-empty bottle in her hands, she found herself thinking that if she didn't get back and rest, and perhaps get some food, she might need some of it herself. Her eyelids drooped wearily; she had passed a long and difficult night with Susan as they lay over the body of Aslan, and what little sleep she had gotten had been fitful and unsatisfying. Then their race across the tundra to the witch's castle and back, then the battle itself, had taken a good deal out of her as well. Now that she knew she had helped all she could, the adrenaline which had kept her on her feet was fading quickly. She would get to the camp, and sleep—yes, a nice long nap should do nicely, then she could talk to the others and find some food, and figure out what was to happen now…

She paused, frowning, and turned back to squint at a cluster of rocks further down the ravine. She could have sworn she'd caught a glimpse of something as she passed, a flash of red between the shades of grey. She took a few steps backward, squinting—yes, there: between the larger two boulders, a piece of red fabric. There was something awfully familiar about it.

In fact, it looked an awful lot like—

_Tumnus' scarf!_

She gasped, all weariness forgotten, as she realized she hadn't seen the faun since they had arrived with Aslan and the second army. And it was so unlike Tumnus to leave her, even for a little while…

She scrambled down the path toward the boulders, heedless of the pebbles that scattered under her feet, making her skid unsteadily. Panic fluttered wildly in her breast like a caged sparrow, and tears already stung her wide, frightened eyes.

No, no, no…

She rounded the corner, then cried out in grief and horror, nearly falling to her knees at the sight that greeted her.

Tumnus lay sprawled on his back, one arm flung over his head, the other bent towards his midsection. His mouth was open and slack, as if in a silent scream, and protruding from between his ribs was the ugly black hilt of a dagger.

But it was his eyes that had caused her to cry in horror, for they were open, and vacant, staring upward at the darkening sky.

"No!" she screamed, and raced forward, dropping to her knees beside him. "No, no, Mr. Tumnus!" Forgetting herself for a moment, she grabbed his shoulders and shook them, hard. "Please, wake up! Wake up!"

He did not move, and Lucy suddenly realized she was not helping him by going into hysterics. Trying to slow her breathing, which was coming in great gasping sobs, she reached into her cloak and pulled out the cordial, though her fingers shook almost too badly to uncork it.

Blinking desperately, trying to see his face through the combined onslaught of tears and darkness, she leaned forward and tipped her wrist, allowing one ruby drop to fall. She had to stay the wild impulse to pour the whole contents of the bottle down his throat, if only to see him look at her and smile again…

She corked the bottle and set it aside, then, like Oreius had shown her, grabbed the dagger by the hilt and pulled in one smooth motion, placing her hand over the wound to staunch the blood flow—

--except there was no blood flow; the wound remained open, but apart from a droplet that ran between her fingers, it did not bleed the way a living wound should.

A choked cry escaped her, and she looked desperately towards Tumnus' face, but it remained motionless; the ruby drop glistened on his lower lip. She reached up and tilted his head back, and the drop trickled into his mouth, but when she released him, his head fell limply to the side, where it remained, unmoving.

"Mr. Tumnus," she whimpered, leaning over him and stroking the hair back from his brow with trembling fingers. "Oh, Mr. Tumnus, please…please don't leave me. I need you. Please…"

He did not answer her. And it was by this, more than anything, that Lucy truly knew he had gone.

The grief overwhelmed her. Added to the emotional weight she already carried and the weariness of the long day, it was simply too much. She collapsed, sobbing, onto his still chest, wrapping her arm around him and allowing the darkness to wash over her at last. She closed her eyes, and knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Thank you for the kind reviews! I really appreciate it. This story has several more chapters; I will try to get at least one posted a day. The rest should be up by the end of the week. **

Chapter 2

When Lucy next awoke, she found herself in her own bed back at the camp. For the fleeting moment before full consciousness returned to her, she was confused by the odd weight that had settled into her chest, unable to place the cause. But then it came crashing back to her, and with it a grief so crushing for a moment she couldn't breathe.

Tumnus. Mr. Tumnus was gone. Her very best friend in Narnia, in the whole world, and she'd been too late to save him.

She turned her head, squinting into the darkness of the tent; a few feet away, Susan lay sleeping on her own bed. From the angle of the moonlight, Lucy knew it was very early in the morning—only a little while until sunrise.

She closed her eyes tightly and clutched her pillow, burying her face in its soft folds. A tear trickled from beneath her clenched lids, soaking into the lightweight fabric of the pillowcase. Grief made it difficult to swallow, and she found herself once more fighting sobs.

It just wasn't _fair!_ She'd only just gotten Tumnus back—when she'd discovered his frozen statue in the witch's melting castle she'd been sure she'd lost him forever. It was miraculous enough that he'd been returned to her then, but to lose him again so soon afterwards? She wanted to scream to the heavens at the injustice of it.

She must have made some noise, for across the tent Susan stirred in her sleep. Lucy froze, not feeling like facing her sister at the moment; Susan would hold her and tell her it would be all right, and Lucy didn't think she could bear to hear it. How could it _ever_ be all right?

After a moment, Susan stilled, and soon her breathing was steady once more. Lucy allowed herself a small sigh of relief.

Though she was desperately tired, she knew she would be unable to retreat back into the blissful oblivion of sleep. She slid out from under the covers where she had been snuggly tucked—Peter, no doubt—and felt around with one toe for her slippers. Once they were on, she tugged her robe around her closely and slipped silently out of the tent.

She walked away from the camp, toward an outcropping of rock that faced the sea, and the distant castle. Cair Paravel, Aslan had called it—and she was to sit in throne as queen.

But she didn't want it any more, not any of it. What had seemed so magical and exciting only hours before was meaningless now, empty. What good was being a Queen of Narnia, anyway? What was the point? She'd already proven she couldn't do it; she hadn't been able to save the friend she loved so dearly. If she couldn't save him, how could she take care of a whole world?

She gave a shuddery sigh, and sat upon the dew-dampened grass, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. Already the ache in her chest was becoming familiar, a sensation she knew she'd carry with her for a very long time. Maybe for the rest of her life. It was no more than she deserved.

The tears prickled at her eyes, and she didn't bother to wipe them as they streamed, hot and silent, down her face.

"Why, Lucy," a deep, gentle voice suddenly rumbled behind her. "Whatever is the matter?"

She gasped, startled, then turned and saw Aslan standing behind her, his eyes glowing in the early dawn light as he looked down at her with kindness and concern.

Her face crumpled; she drew herself to her knees and flung her arms about the great cat's neck, sobbing into his rich golden mane. She felt one of his gigantic paws on her back, resting gently between her shoulder blades, and she cried harder.

"Oh Aslan," she sobbed. "It's my fault, it's all my fault!"

"There, there, dear one," he said, and she felt his voice as much as heard it, pressed against him as she was. "What are you talking about? What is your fault?"

"W-what happened to M-Mr. Tumnus!" she wailed, her words garbled by his fur. "I wasn't fast enough, I didn't find him soon enough, and he…he…" she couldn't say it. She clung to the lion, weeping harder than ever.

He lowered his paw and drew away from her. "He what?" he asked, and she heard genuine confusion in his voice.

She looked up, perplexity mingling with her grief. How could they not know? Wouldn't they have seen him, when they found her…?

"He...I found him, but the cordial didn't—it was too late," she replied, voice quavering.

A flash of comprehension crossed his features. Then, to her utter surprise, he smiled.

She stared at him, confused, and he raised one eyebrow, indicating with his great head a point over her shoulder. She frowned at him, not understanding, until—

"Lucy?"

She gasped, and spun around, hardly aware of Aslan's rich chuckle, for standing down the hill a little ways, looking worried and a bit frightened, was—

"Mr. Tumnus!"

Her words were scarcely more than a whisper, so great was her shock. In the faint morning light, she could see his lips curve into a hesitant smile, and he took a half-step toward her, wringing his hands together nervously.

"Lucy…are you all right? Why are you crying?" he asked, the smile fading a little as he took in her tear-streaked face.

The sound of his voice—which she had never thought to hear again—and the sight of him standing before her, _alive,_ made her break into fresh sobs, though she was grinning so wide her cheeks hurt. She dashed forward and flung her arms about his waist, burying her face in his chest.

She heard him make a little 'oomp!' of surprise, but after only a moment his arms gently wrapped themselves around her. She felt him kneel, and adjusted her arms so they were wrapped about his shoulders instead, and rested her cheek against his scarf. Her tears soaked the red fabric, and she knew she should try to stop crying, but she couldn't; feeling him holding her was simply too wonderful.

Tumnus rocked her gently, apparently more than willing to let her cry, and seemingly unconcerned about the rapidly deteriorating condition of his scarf. One of his arms held her tightly about the waist, and the other moved in soothing circles over her back. Slowly, she felt herself calming; she took a few deep, calming breaths and pulled away, rubbing self-consciously at her reddened and tear-streaked cheeks. She was certain she looked a mess: two nights of sorrowful sleep had not left her very rested, and after all the crying her eyes felt puffy and swollen. Tumnus was silent, waiting for her to collect herself, but she found she was too embarrassed to look up.

After a moment, his hand came up beneath her chin and forced her head up gently so that she was looking him in the face. "Hey, hey," he crooned softly, an echo of the tone and words she had spoken to him not so long ago, at their first parting by the lamppost.

She gave him a watery smile, which he returned, reaching up to brush at the new tears slowly rolling down her face. "Lucy," he said softly. "What's wrong, dear heart?"

Her face crumpled a bit, but she swallowed hard and managed to forestall further tears. "I th-thought you were…I thought…" she swallowed again. "I thought you were dead."

Comprehension dawned on Tumnus' face, and was quickly followed by a series of emotions Lucy couldn't decipher. He looked away, and she saw his cheeks turn faintly red. "Oh," was all he could say.

In truth, his mind was reeling. He'd awoken on the battlefield, bewildered, and seen Lucy fast asleep beside him, though she wouldn't wake when he spoke to her. He'd checked her over, and once he was confident she hadn't sustained any serious injuries, carried her back to camp. Her siblings had raced forward when they'd seen him approaching, but he'd reassured them she wasn't hurt, merely overcome with weariness and toil. Peter had taken her from his arms—it had pained Tumnus to let her go, even to her own brother—and thanked him rather distractedly for looking after her, then disappeared into the tent the two Pevensie sisters shared, Edmund and Susan trailing after him.

That had been the last he had seen of her; it had never occurred to him to wonder why she had fallen asleep on the battlefield in the first place, or more to the point, why he himself had apparently been sleeping. It had all seemed so hazy…

Now, however, it all came back to him: the minotaur, the dagger…the brute had been aiming it at Lucy, and Tumnus had fought him, only to have the dagger end up buried in his own chest. It was a sacrifice he'd made more than willingly—but he was quite certain he had died, lying on that field.

And so, apparently, was Lucy. It made him increasingly uncomfortable, for reasons he couldn't quite define, to know she had been crying over _him_.

He looked back up at her, to find her watching him closely, her eyes wide and shining with a new layer of tears.

"Oh, there now, Lucy, don't—don't cry," he said awkwardly, and, ignoring his own discomfort at her concern, pulled her back into his arms. She came willingly, resting her head against his shoulder, and he felt her sigh swell against his chest.

"I think," he said, gently scooping her into his arms and rising to his hooves again, "that you haven't had nearly enough sleep these past few days, am I right?"

She nodded against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him, and his heart swelled with tenderness; for now, the emotion silenced the other less comfortable ones roiling within him. At that moment, she was not a royal daughter of Eve, or a future Queen of Narnia—she was an exhausted child in desperate need of comfort and rest.

"Then I think," he continued, walking back toward the camp toward her tent, "that it is high time you got some more, don't you?"

She made no reply, but he heard her yawn; he carried her to her tent and quietly (so as not to disturb the still-sleeping Susan) laid her upon her cot. She watched him with eyes heavily hooded, nearly asleep already, as he tucked her in tenderly and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss upon her brow. As he stood, however, her eyes snapped open again and she reached her hand toward him.

He took it, a question in his eyes, and she turned faintly pink but kept her eyes on him all the same.

"Please," she said. "Please, will you stay with me till I fall asleep?"

He smiled, and reached out to smooth the hair from her forehead. "Of course, dearest, of course," he whispered, settling himself on the edge of the bed beside her. She smiled wearily, and closed her eyes, her small hand still clutched in his.

He hummed a gentle lullaby, and soon enough, her eyes drifted closed, and sleep washed through her again.

Even so, he stayed with her.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's notes: I'm sorry this is late; I tried to upload it yesterday and the site wouldn't let me. Also, there will probably be a little bit more of a delay before the next update--I decided I needed a chapter from Tumnus' POV, so I'll have to actually write that. Thanks to all the reviewers! I really appreciate it!**

Chapter 3

When Susan awoke a few hours later, she was greeted by a most unusual sight. Her little sister lay asleep on her cot, blankets tucked snugly about her—that wasn't particularly odd. What _was_ odd was the sight of Mr. Tumnus curled beside her, so near to the edge of the bed it was a wonder he hadn't toppled off of it yet. His hand was curled protectively around Lucy's on the pillow between them, and his hooves hung off the bed, nearly to the ground.

It was a precarious perch indeed, and looked decidedly uncomfortable; she was sure Tumnus would wake quite sore if he maintained it much longer. Creeping up behind him, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking lightly.

"Mr. Tumnus," she whispered, not wishing to startle him or wake Lucy. "Mr. Tumnus, wake up."

His eyes snapped open and he sat up, drawing a startled breath. She hurried to soothe him: "Shh, it's okay! It's okay. It's just me."

He looked up at her, and upon realizing where he was, reddened slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry, your majesty," he said, standing hastily and bowing awkwardly, surreptitiously using one hand to support himself—from the looks of it, his legs were asleep, but he was doing his best not to show it. "I meant no offense, I…I just, I…sh-she asked me not to leave, and I…"

Susan smiled. "Don't worry," she said. "I'm not upset. You just looked uncomfortable, that was all."

He finally met her eyes, and a hesitant smile played about his lips. "Yes, well," he mumbled, looking down again. His gaze rested on Lucy, and the smile faded; a look of deep concern and confusion replaced it.

Susan followed his gaze, but noted nothing unusual; Lucy was still sleeping as soundly as ever, for which Susan was quite thankful. Her little sister had been through quite a lot in the past few days. They all had.

She looked back up at Tumnus, and tilted her head. "What is it?" she asked gently.

Tumnus frowned, then looked up at her as if considering. "I…your majesty, would--do you…that is, could I speak with you about something?"

Susan nodded. "Of course!" Then she glanced down at her sister, and added in a near-whisper, "But perhaps we should take this outside? I don't want to wake her yet."

Tumnus nodded, and together they stepped out into the morning sunshine.

Susan stretched a little and surveyed the camp, which despite the early hour was already quite busy. She was surprised to see Peter and Edmund were already up and about; they were just visible in the distance directing the packing of the camp and helping the healers with the injured, easily distinguished by the way they moved and their lack of hooves. She smiled a secret smile; their mother would never believe her two sons could be roused before nine o'clock without an immediate threat to their well-being. Susan rather thought she would approve of the change that had come over them.

She turned from them, letting her gaze wander over the rest of the camp. Despite their losses, the general atmosphere was jubilant, and Susan knew the victory would quickly hearten the injured. She smiled as she watched. It was truly wonderful to see so much joy on these people's faces, after such a tense and fearful beginning. If Narnia had been wonderful before the White Witch's defeat, now it was truly magical.

"We should be able to use more of Lucy's cordial today," Susan mused aloud. "Now that we're sure we've helped everyone who was seriously injured, we can start curing the smaller wounds."

Tumnus looked awkward at her words, though she couldn't fathom why. Gathering her wandering thoughts, she smiled at him and took him by the hand. "I'm sorry, where are my manners?" she said apologetically. "Come on, let's get some breakfast and you can tell me what's bothering you."

Tumnus followed as she led them to the small table on the other side of the tent. She settled herself onto the low bench, indicating he should do so as well, and in short order they were being brought platters of toast, eggs, and bacon, bowls of steaming porridge and a pitcher of tea. Tumnus looked positively mortified at being waited upon; he kept his eyes carefully trained on his lap until the faun serving them had bowed and departed.

Susan smiled. "It's okay to look up now, Mr. Tumnus," she teased in a conspiratorial whisper, and he jumped, startled, going even redder.

"Oh, right," he said, reaching so hastily for the tea kettle that he upset his (fortunately still empty) cup. Susan righted it for him, and held it steady while he poured, then took the kettle for herself.

"Now," she said, once she had buttered a piece of toast. "What is it you wanted to ask me? I assume it's about Lucy?" She took a bite of toast and watched him, brow raised.

Tumnus, who thus far had done nothing but stare at his cup of tea, glanced up again, though he seemed to have trouble holding eye contact for long. "Yes," he said. "It's just that she…she was upset, last night, and I—well, this morning, I suppose, if I'm to be completely accurate, right around sunrise; yes, I'm certain that's when it was; I found her with Aslan over by the far ridge, and the sun was just coming up over Cair Paravel…" He was babbling, looking more uncomfortable than ever, and Susan felt a swell of pity for the poor creature.

"Mr. Tumnus," she interrupted gently, "relax. It's just me."

He looked up at her, and she smiled encouragingly; he suddenly released a nervous-sounding chuckle, and his shoulders relaxed a little bit.

"Yes, your majesty," he murmured.

"You don't have to call me that," she chided. "It's not even true yet, and anyway, I'm your friend. I think we can safely dispense with the formalities, at least for now, don't you?"

He made a noncommittal noise, and Susan guessed this was not a battle she would win in one go. Deciding for the moment it wasn't terribly important, she sighed. "I'm sorry," she said, nodding for him to go on. "You were saying? Lucy was with Aslan…?"

"Y-yes," Tumnus said, trying to collect his thoughts once more. "It's just that…well, she was" —he paused, and looked around, as though expecting someone to be listening in, then leaned forward and said quietly, as though sharing a horrible secret— "crying over me."

He waited, seeming to expect some sort of reaction; she merely raised an eyebrow at him and waved him on. "I-I didn't know it at the time," he continued, twisting his napkin between his fingers. "She was with Aslan, you see—I just woke up when I heard her crying, and came to see what was wrong, and she…well, she…" He suddenly coughed and took a sip of tea, going red to the tips of his long ears. "She, um…well, she hugged me, and she wouldn't…let go. I mean, she couldn't stop…" he paused, his eyes going distant, then looked up at Susan. "She couldn't stop crying."

Susan tilted her head, frowning in confusion. "Why was she crying?"

Tumnus shook his head. "I'm not sure exactly what happened," he said slowly. "I told you I found her asleep on the battlefield—well, I found her after I myself woke up."

Susan looked at him, comprehension dawning. "She had to heal you," she said slowly as the pieces fell into place. "She gave you the cordial!"

Tumnus nodded. "I think she must have," he replied. "You see, I rather thought I was dead. I'd been stabbed, I think—but when I woke up, I'd forgotten all of that. Had no idea where I was, or how I'd gotten there, and Lucy was beside me. I brought her back here, and met you, and King Peter and King Edmund."

Susan nodded, remembering the events of the previous evening. They'd all been so concerned about Lucy, they hadn't thought to question Tumnus very extensively. "But if she didn't—I mean, if she fell asleep before you revived—do you think she didn't know you were healed?"

Tumnus nodded again. "When I found her this morning, she told me she'd thought I was dead," he said, softly, his eyes looking distant and troubled.

Susan waited, but Tumnus seemed lost in his own thoughts. After a moment, she reached out and put her hand gently over his. "Mr. Tumnus?"

He jumped, then gave a nervous chuckle. Squeezing his hand, she gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. "So what was it you wanted to ask about?" she asked, not quite sure she understood the problem. "If you already know what was wrong with her…?"

"But I don't!" he said, and now he finally met her eyes without looking away; she was shocked at the amount of anguish she saw there. "I don't understand it. She was so…_upset_." He paused, recollecting, then shivered. "I never want to see her that upset again."

Susan gave a brief laugh and shook her head, still at a loss. "Well, of _course_ she was upset, Tumnus," she replied. "She thought you were dead. What did you expect her to be?"

"But you didn't _see_ her, Susan," the faun insisted, running his free hand distractedly through his hair. "You didn't see how she—it was awful. I thought something horrible had happened!"

"So did she," Susan countered, growing slightly frustrated at his inexplicable behavior. "Why is that so hard for you to believe?"

He looked at her, and she was taken aback to see fear in his eyes. "But she shouldn't have—my death, it—why should it have upset her so?" he pressed, his voice on the thin edge of breaking.

She shook her head in disbelief—was _that_ truly what Tumnus didn't understand? "Silly idiot," she chided, releasing his hand and leaning back. "Because you're her friend, and she loves you."

Far from looking comforted by these words, Tumnus shuddered as if struck by a blow. He shook his head slowly, his eyes distant and his face drawn. "I was afraid of that," he whispered. "She shouldn't, Susan. She can't. I don't…I don't deserve that."

Susan frowned, but before she could open her mouth to protest, Tumnus suddenly stood, nearly upsetting the table in the process. "I thank you for your time, your majesty," he said, bowing low. "I hope you will pardon my rudeness, but I really must go and help the others. Good day."

He turned and sprinted from the table faster than she could recover herself. Stunned, she sat back down and watched as he disappeared into the crowd.

_Well_, she thought. _Something will have to be done about this._

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks as always for the reviews! This chapter will be short, but the next should be up by tomorrow.**

Chapter 4

Tumnus sprinted blindly through the camp, desperate to put as much space as possible between himself and the royal family. He knew he'd behaved poorly, and likely offended Susan as well, but he also knew he would not have been able to maintain what little was left of his composure, had he stayed much longer.

Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad. Lucy, love _him_? The future queen, one of the saviors of Narnia itself, caring about…about…

It was all so wrong. So…_backwards_. Tumnus knew that much, at least. After all, what was he—_who_ was he, to have earned the friendship of someone so grand? So pure?

But that was just the problem, wasn't it? He _hadn't_ earned her friendship. He hadn't earned anything at all, yet somehow she didn't see that, didn't understand. And how could she? He hadn't exactly been completely honest with her.

"_The white witch…she gave _orders_…"_

His own words flitted through his mind, taunting him. Ah, yes, orders—and so she had. But she hadn't given them to just anyone, had she?

Tumnus staggered forward, not really watching where hw as going, nor heeding the strange looks he was receiving. All he knew was the desperate, blinding need to get away, quickly. The discomfort which had been born in him as he'd comforted Lucy earlier that morning had since grown to a crushing, mind-numbing guilt.

_Unworthy_.

The world resounded through his mind, taunting him.

He did not deserve her company; he had no business calling her friend, no right to love her as he did. Not after…not after what he'd done; what he'd _been_.

Tumnus rounded a corner and found himself on the edge of the wood surrounding the camp. A quick glance behind him revealed no one watching; quietly, he slipped through the trees, desperate for a few moments to himself. He walked until the sounds from the camp faded to the dull clink of armor and the faint murmur of voices, then stopped abruptly and began to pace.

What was he going to _do_?

He let out an involuntary whimper, pulling distractedly at his hair. He couldn't just run away, he knew that—Lucy would track him down, and besides, where would he go? Anyway, he didn't want to do that. It would hurt her, and that…that was the last thing Tumnus would ever want. He had done quite enough of that already in the short time they had known each other.

No, it wasn't going to be as simple as running and hiding. Not this time. And besides, that would be a cowardly thing to do, and Tumnus was through with being a coward. It was time he faced his problems, and did what was right.

What was right…

He sighed, and paused in his pacing, allowing his shoulders to slump dejectedly. He would confess to Lucy. Confront her, tell her the truth—all of it—and accept the exile which would surely follow. For he knew it would—even if she didn't say it outright, even if she stuttered and patted his shoulder awkwardly and said everything was forgiven, he would know. He would see it in her eyes—the disgust, the contempt. And then he could leave, and she would not follow, would not be hurt by his absence. It was the only way.

For a long moment he simply stood, staring blankly across the little clearing and waiting while the newly-shattered pieces of his heart locked themselves quietly away. He could not let himself be bothered by his own pain—he was not what was important now, and his pain would, after all, be for the best. Narnia would be much, much better off without him.

Numb but determined, he squared his shoulders bravely and began to slowly walk back toward the camp. There was, after all, work to be done, and Tumnus could make himself good for that much. At least until such time as he could speak with Lucy, tell her the truth, and finally face the consequences of his actions.

As he walked, he mulled miserably over his decision. _Right._ Yes, he would do what was right—he just wished what was right didn't have to be so _hard_.


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter is not much more than filler; I apologize for that. I promise Tumnus will be back soon. **

** I would also like to make a note to the anonymous reviewer who thought my Tumnus was too angsty: you are probably right. That is why I included the OOC warning at the beginning. I'm afraid angst is all I know how to write, and you are not the first to find a characterization of mine not to your liking for that reason. However, I feel I must warn you the rest of the story is not likely to change your opinion; it might be best if you give it a miss this go round. I'll try to write something fluffy and more faunish for my next fic. :) **

**Thanks as always to the reveiwers!**

Chapter 5

Susan found Aslan an hour later, in the rocky ravines near the battlefield. He was gathering a group of oddly-shaped rocks into a pile; she stood atop a boulder and watched with interest, for a time forgetting why she had come to find him.

"I wonder, Susan," he called up to her, making her jump—she hadn't realized he'd known she was there, "if you could do me a favor."

He turned to look up at her, and she nodded, jumping down and approaching the odd pile of rock. "Yes, Aslan?"

He indicated the two large boulders in front of him with a nod of his golden head. "I think you'll find wedged between those two a bit of rock shaped like a talon," he said. "I would very much appreciate it if you could retrieve it—I'm afraid it's too tight a squeeze for a large fellow like me."

Susan nodded, hurrying to do as he asked. It was nearly too tight a squeeze for her, but she found the piece he was looking for, and brought it back to add to the pile. Aslan stared at it intently for a moment, and she waited, knowing better than to interrupt him when he looked like that—he had the same look Peter sometimes got when he was going over a particularly difficult bit of homework, and Susan had long since learned that sort of concentration was not favorably interrupted. She backed away a bit, clambering upon another boulder and watched the lion with interest.

Aslan circled the pile of rock slowly, his look of intense concentration never wavering. Once he reached the other side, he suddenly nodded, looking satisfied. He turned to Susan, and gave her a little wink, then leaned forward and breathed upon the rocks.

For a moment nothing happened. Then the rocks, as though imbued with a life of their own, began to shift, reshaping themselves and fitting together as though they had never been broken. Soon, they formed the shape of a large stone griffin, which almost immediately began to thaw. Moments later, the magnificent creature stood before them, whole, blinking in a dazed sort of way. Spotting Aslan in front of him, he gasped and bowed deeply.

"My lord," he breathed, then looked up, flexing his talons. "But where has the witch gone?" he asked, sounding perplexed. "She was here, just now, I thought."

Aslan smiled. "She has been defeated, my friend," he replied gently.

The griffin stared at him, then seemed to notice Susan; he gave a little start and bowed to her as well. "Your highness!" he said. "It is truly an honor." Then he looked around again. "I was a stone, then? How very odd! I would have thought to remember more." He shook himself again, ruffling his wings, and bowed to them once more. "My lord, my queen, by your leave."

Aslan nodded, and the griffin crouched, then bounded into the air and was soon out of sight, winging back towards the camp.

Aslan chuckled, then bounded upon the rock where Susan was sitting and settled himself beside her.

"I believe that's everyone," he said, sounding satisfied. "Tomorrow we will bury our dead, then begin the journey back to Cair Paravel."

He looked down at her, and raised a brow. "Now, Daughter of Eve," he said. "What did you wish to speak to me about?"

Susan smiled, ever-amazed at the great cat's ability to know her purpose before she told it to him. "It's Mr. Tumnus, sir," she said.

Aslan nodded. "Lucy's friend the faun," he murmured. "Yes, I rather thought something like this would happen, though I expected it to be Lucy who would find me."

Susan frowned. "Something like…what?"

Aslan smiled gently. "You are wondering about his odd behavior over breakfast?"

She gaped at him. "H-how—how did you…?"

He chuckled. "Not everything is magic, dear heart," he said. "I was just up camp a little ways, and I saw him leave in a hurry."

She stared for a moment, then burst into astonished laughter. "And here I thought spying was against your nature, Aslan!" she teased.

He smiled, but soon his face was serious again. "You've come to me to answer your problem, and have nearly answered it yourself," he said, raising one eyebrow significantly.

She tilted her head, perplexed. "I don't understand, sir," she replied.

He looked out over the battlefield, and sighed. "Susan, there are few things that can tear a soul apart more viciously than guilt," he said. "Your concern for the faun is touching, and no less than one would expect from a friend. However, I am not the one who can help your Mr. Tumnus. There is only one who can."

"Lucy," Susan said softly, and the lion looked at her, pleased.

"Yes," he replied. "He must seek her out, and talk with her."

"But Aslan," Susan said, suddenly worried. "I'm not sure if he will. He had a hard enough time talking to me about it."

The lion smiled at her. "I doubt you need worry, dear one," he said, rising to his feet and leaping from the boulder. "After all, Lucy is hardly one to let the matter slide, once she notices something is wrong."

Susan had to agree that was the truth, and as she and Aslan walked back toward the camp together, her heart felt a little easier. Still, she was worried; she hoped her sister would talk to Tumnus soon. After all, no one should be unhappy, now that they'd finally won peace for Narnia.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**I have given up fighting with this chapter. I'm not entirely happy with it, but at this point I'm ready to wrap this story up and move on. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Thanks to the reviewers!**

Chapter 6

Lucy was disappointed but not entirely surprised, when she woke several hours later, to find that Mr. Tumnus had gone.

She sat up and pushed the covers aside for the second time that day, and swung her feet from the bed. Now that she'd finally gotten enough sleep—or at least caught up enough to last the rest of the day—she remembered she hadn't actually eaten anything since mid-afternoon the day before. A glance outside the tent told her it was nearly noon; her stomach gurgled. It was definitely time to find the others, and see about finding some food as well.

And, of course, she would have to find Mr. Tumnus again, and apologize for likely ruining his favorite scarf.

Finding her family didn't actually take as long as she expected. Peter and Susan were already seated at the table on the other side of the tent, and Edmund was standing nearby, talking with Phillip while he removed his tack. The horse was remarkably patient, which was likely the reason he had been selected from the many who had volunteered to bear Edmund, who really knew nothing about riding. But Phillip was gentle as well as patient, and Edmund was learning quickly.

Peter saw her first, and immediately grinned, looking relieved. "Good morning, sleepy!" he teased, reaching out to tweak her nose as he used to when she was little. As she always had then, she giggled.

"Good afternoon, you mean," Susan corrected, but she was smiling too. "Are you hungry?"

"Very," Lucy confirmed.

She sat next to her eldest siblings at the table and surveyed the spread: bread, cheese, jam, fruit—some familiar, some not—and cold turkey. Lucy had been uncomfortable, at first, at the idea of eating meat in a place where animals could talk, but Beaver had assured her that it was not every animal—some were Dumb, which Lucy could only take to mean they were like the animals she was accustomed to back home.

She just hoped they had made sure to ask the turkey.

Deciding this was not the proper course of thought if she didn't want to put off her appetite, she grabbed a slice of bread and took a large bite, surveying her siblings as she did. Peter had returned to watching Edmund fumble with the saddle, and laughed every now and then; Edmund himself cast his older brother annoyed but good-humored glares over his shoulder. Lucy, watching, giggled; it was really astounding, the change that had come over her brothers. Edmund in particular, of course, but Peter too: he was beginning to treat Edmund as a friend rather than a responsibility or a burden, and Edmund was rising to the occasion brilliantly. It was definitely a change for the better, Lucy thought happily, as she sipped her juice. She hoped it would last.

She glanced up, and noticed Susan was watching her. She smiled, and Susan returned it, but it was pensive; clearly there was something on her elder sister's mind.

"What is it?" Lucy asked, wiping the juice from her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Use your napkin, Lu," Susan said automatically, handing it to her; Lucy sighed and made a dramatic show of cleaning her entire face and behind her ears before Susan laughed and swatted her lightly across the shoulder. Peter chuckled at them, and Lucy grinned cheekily.

Susan turned to watch Edmund for a few more moments, then said, casually: "Have you seen Mr. Tumnus today, Lucy?"

Lucy looked up sharply, wondering if her sister somehow knew what had happened earlier.

"Yes," she said slowly. "Just before sunrise."

Susan looked back down at her. "Not since then?" she pressed, and to Lucy her voice seemed slightly urgent.

Lucy frowned. "No," she said. "I thought I'd go find him after I ate. Why? Is something wrong?"

Susan frowned. "I'm not sure, really," she said, and told her sister what had happened that morning at breakfast, then her conversation with Aslan.

"He wouldn't say any more," she finished. "Only that you were the only one who could help him."

"Any idea what he meant, then, Lu?" asked Peter, who had listened to their conversation with interest—he had taken an immediate liking to the faun, likely due to the fact that the first time he met him, he had been bringing an unconscious Lucy safely back to camp.

Lucy frowned, thinking. "I'm not sure," she said.

Edmund, who had joined the group shortly after Susan had begun her tale and caught the gist of it, tilted his head quizzically. "What was it you said before, when you were first telling us about Narnia? Didn't you say Tumnus had been planning to turn you over to the Witch?"

Lucy's eyes widened as she looked at her brother. "Yes," she said. "But…could that still be…could he still be bothered by that, do you think?"

Edmund looked at her with the most serious expression she had ever seen on his face. "I don't know about Tumnus," he said quietly, "but I do know it's difficult to stop being bothered by betraying the people you care about."

He looked down at his plate, and Peter reached across the table to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. Edmund gave him a half-hearted smile, then looked back at his youngest sister.

"Have you told him you forgive him, Lu?"

Frowning, Lucy thought back, trying to remember exactly what had been said in those hurried, frightened moments by the lamppost. She remembered very clearly Tumnus burying his face in her handkerchief, then looking up with tearful eyes and telling her he was sorry…but she honestly couldn't recall having actually said she forgave him. She frowned. "I…I can't remember," she said. "But I thought he would have known…"

"He may," Edmund said, reaching for a piece of bread, "but it couldn't hurt to tell him. That way he'll know for sure."

Lucy nodded, and stood, suddenly far less hungry than she had been.

"You're right," she announced. "I'm going to go and find him."

"But Lucy—you've hardly touched your lunch," Peter protested. "Surely it can wait a few more minutes…?"

Susan, however, looking up at her younger sister, shook her head. "Lucy's right," she said softly. "You didn't see Tumnus this morning, Peter. The sooner she finds him, the better. But," here she waggled a finger warningly, much more like the old Susan, "as soon as you do, the both of you had better come and have something to eat. I noticed Tumnus didn't touch the breakfast this morning, and only stared at his tea."

Lucy giggled and gave her sister a mock-salute, then ran toward the camp and was immediately lost in the crowd.


	7. Chapter 7

**Well, here it is: the final chapter. I would like to make a quick note, and an apology: this chapter is still relatively rough. I meant to edit it tonight, but I've finally caught the cold my whole family had over break, and I'm too doped up on sudafed at the moment to be a successful editor. We're leaving for vacation tomorrow; rather than put off the posting of this chapter another week I decided I would post it as-is. I believe I've caught most of the grammar errors, but I haven't done much in the way of toning up the writing itself. As such, you will find it is angsty and sappy beyond belief, something I (believe it or not) usually try to tone down in my revisions. **

** I apologize to those for whom this chapter is a disappointment in that regard; perhaps when I've returned from the medication-induced la-la land I've entered I'll post a revised version. But I rather wish to finish this up, so I can start on my next one (which will likely be a Tumnus x Lucy romance--I'll post warnings for those of you who are squicked by that, but be forewarned, yeah? Adult Lucy, by the way).**

**But I've chatted enough. On with the show. And thanks, as always, to all the reviewers. This story would likely not have seen completion without your support.**

Chapter 7

It took Lucy nearly an hour to find Tumnus.

After asking around, she finally tracked him down, loading chainmail and weapons into the large carts which would transport them to the armory at Cair Paravel.

He was carrying a rather large armful of swords when she spotted him, and he didn't notice her right away; she waited until he had safely deposited the weapons, not wanting him to drop them or hurt himself, but as soon as he straightened his eyes fell upon her.

She had been expecting a smile, or perhaps a wave. What happened instead was such a stark contrast to her expectations it was startling: Tumnus abruptly paled, and his eyes widened with what could only be described as dismay. He leapt lightly from the cart, then dropped to one knee before her in a very low, very formal bow.

"Your Majesty," he said. "May I be of some assistance to you?"

Lucy gaped at him; she could not have been more shocked if he had slapped her. "Mr. Tumnus…what are you doing?"

He raised his eyes to her face briefly, then immediately looked down again. "I do not understand your question, Your Majesty," he replied, voice and features carefully blank.

Lucy was of two minds: part of her wanted to cry, because this was not the Tumnus she knew. But the other part of her—the part that had survived three older and often bossy siblings—suddenly grew quite stubborn. It was this part of her that won out. Scowling, she reached out and grabbed the faun's hand.

"Come with me," she said. "We need to talk."

It worked, a little bit—Tumnus was startled enough that he obeyed without question. She led him away from the other workers, into a little glade still in sight of the camp but secluded enough they would not be overheard.

Once there, she released his hand and stared at him, wondering what to do next. Tumnus, she could see, was going to be no help; he had lowered his head and was once again staring at the ground, though he was no longer bowing. She decided to take that as a good sign.

"Mr. Tumnus," she said, gently this time, and he glanced up at her. "Why are you acting this way?"

Tumnus swallowed, and looked down at his hands, clasped nervously in front of him. "I don't know what you mean, Your Majesty," he said softly, but it sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.

Lucy sighed in frustration. "Yes, you do," she said. "You're doing it right now. Since when am I 'Your Majesty' to you?"

He winced, eyes still lowered. "You should have been from the start," he said, sounding weary. "I have been too forward where Your Majesty is concerned."

She stamped her foot. "Do NOT call me that!"

Tumnus looked up, and for a brief moment he nearly smiled; Lucy could be quite a sight when she was angry, yet another skill acquired from growing up the youngest of four.

"Lucy," he said, softly, "you must understand. You are to be queen of Narnia. You must choose your friends more carefully. People will judge you by the company you keep."

Lucy tilted her head shrewdly. "And you think they'll judge me poorly if I choose to keep yours?"

Tumnus looked down. "Yes," he said simply, his voice small.

"And you honestly think I care?"

"You should care," he said, and now he sounded almost desperate. He stooped before her so they were at eye-level and grasped her shoulders. "As a queen of the realm, you should not risk damaging your reputation by associating with…wi-with…" He hesitated, and now that he was finally looking at her he seemed unable to look away. She wanted to cry at the sorrow reflected in his eyes.

"With?" she prompted softly after a long moment of silence.

"With spies," he finally finished, releasing her hands and turning to pace the little clearing. "With liars who are too cowardly to do what's right, who hide their heads and take blood money so they can live in comfort while the good are suffering!"

Lucy was stunned into silence by the self-deprecating tirade. And Tumnus seemed far from finished.

"Lucy," he pleaded, stopping before her once more, though he didn't touch her this time; instead, he stood wringing his hands nervously, "you must understand: I worked for Jadis. I wasn't just following general orders when I tried to kidnap you. She gave them specifically to _me_. I was in her pay!" he waved his hand helplessly. "Don't you see?" He said quietly. "I gave up everything—my honor, my integrity, my family's good name—because I was afraid. I was afraid of her! You should not care for me, Lucy Pevensie: I am a coward. You do not want to keep cowards as your friends." He swallowed, and his shoulders drooped. "They aren't worthy of you."

He collapsed onto a fallen log, and hid his face in his hands. He was visibly trembling, and although he did not weep, Lucy's heart was pierced as deeply as if he had.

She moved forward silently until she was right in front of him. He stilled, but did not look up; rather, he seemed to cringe, awaiting her decision.

"Maybe you're right," she said softly. "Maybe cowards aren't worthy of me."

He looked up at her slowly, and his face was a study in sorrow. For all that he had argued for her to come to this very conclusion, he had been hoping, deep down, that she would not—that she could forgive him, that she would put up a fight to keep him. But no. That was selfish. And foolish: why should she? What was he, really? Whatever he might feel for her, she had only known him for a few weeks. Her connection to him would break easily, and soon enough she would forget. And that was good, wasn't it? After all, she would be far better off without him. And by making her see that, he was, at least, finally doing the right thing.

He gave a small sigh, then nodded slowly and stood, bowing. "I am glad you understand," he said softly. "And now I must be going, Your Majesty." He turned from her, suddenly very, very tired, and began to walk away.

He had only taken three steps before her words stopped him once more: "Fortunately, Mr. Tumnus, I don't know any cowards."

Tumnus frowned, and turned to look at her, a question in his eyes. At the sight of her mischievous smile, a spark of hope flared in his chest, which he guarded with quiet caution. "What do you mean?" he whispered.

She moved forward and slid her hand into his; he did not pull it away, though his eyes drifted down to stare at their twined fingers.

"You see," Lucy continued quickly, taking advantage of having caught her friend off-guard, "a coward wouldn't have helped me escape when he knew it could mean his own death. A coward wouldn't have stood up to the white witch to try to protect someone he barely knew, just because he was my brother." Here Tumnus looked at her in surprise, and she smiled. "Edmund told me," she said. He gave a half-laugh, though it held no humor, and looked away.

She frowned, but continued doggedly forward: "And a coward," she said, and her voice cracked a little bit, "wouldn't charge into battle with no weapons or armor, to protect the things he believed in." She reached out and caught his other hand in hers, and gave them both a squeeze. "Whatever you still blame yourself for, Mr. Tumnus," she said, "I want you to stop it. Because I forgave you the moment you did it."

Tumnus was crying now—silent tears that slid down his face, unheeded—but he was smiling as well. He looked down at her, and for a long moment neither of them moved, unwilling to break the moment. Then he released a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and knelt before her once more, arms open.

Lucy launched herself into his arms, hugging him for all she was worth and laughing in relief and joy. He returned the embrace tightly; Lucy could feel his tears wet the shoulder of her dress. She smiled: if nothing else, they had now ruined an equal amount of one another's clothing.

The thought gave her an idea. Pulling back from the embrace, she reached into the pocket of her gown and pulled out the handkerchief Beaver had given her. She grinned, and pressed it into Tumnus' hand.

"I believe this is yours," she stated.

Despite himself, Tumnus laughed, and dabbed his face with a corner of the white cloth. Then he looked up, and used another corner to wipe at her cheeks as well. Lucy touched her face in surprise—she hadn't realized there had been tears on her cheeks.

"Right now, Lucy Pevensie," he said, "I think we could both use it."

He smiled at her, and she was relieved to see it was genuine, without the taint of guilt it had carried before. She smiled back happily.

"We'll share it, then," she compromised. "Though I hope it might be a while before we'll be needing it again. I'm quite tired of being sad."

Tumnus laughed, and rose to his hooves once more. "Wise words, Your Majesty," he said, bowing, and offered his arm.

Lucy took it. "I'm under strict orders to bring you back for some lunch," she told him, tugging him toward the table where she had left her siblings an hour earlier. "Susan says you didn't eat anything at breakfast, and only stared at your tea."

Tumnus laughed again, and shook his head, looking chagrined. "I am going to have to learn that nothing stays secret between you four, aren't I?"

Lucy grinned. "I'm afraid so," she agreed with mock solemnity, as she led him back toward the camp. "But don't worry. You'll catch on soon enough."

"Lucy?" Tumnus said, and for a moment his voice was once again serious.

She looked up at him. "Yes?"

He smiled slowly. "Thank you," he said simply.

Lucy smiled back. "You're welcome."

finis


End file.
